Hanging the Moon
by southerncharm22
Summary: Trevor wants what he wants, but that doesn't mean he can have it.


Title: Hanging the Moon

Rating: PG-13/language

Summary: Trevor was smart, caring, socially conscious and that's why he never got what he wanted.

Author's Notes: This just popped into my head and I wrote it out without knowing where it was going. Sorry if it doesn't make much sense. Warning: It's not BETA'ed so watch out for error!

I stand by my locker waiting for the warning bell to sound. People pass by me without a word. I don't care what the general public thinks of me. They can gawk and point and laugh. I know who I am and I'm comfortable with it. I don't despise them for it or feel any ill will. I'm not a hostile person. I don't hold grudges.

I'm not stupid. I'm not brainwashed. I can make my own decisions. I choose to dress this way. I choose to live this way, because it's the only time I feel at ease in my own skin. Despite what people may think I don't drink my own blood or cut my skin to see it bleed or do anything that may be detrimental to my physical self. Well, I suppose that could be considered a lie I once accidentally scratched my retina with an eyeliner pencil. It watered for three days and I had to go to the doctor. My step-dad and the physician had a good laugh when I explained what happened. I switched to liquid-liner after that.

In spite of my proclamations of indifference, I do become irritated. I'm a human being feelings of annoyance are natural. Too natural sometimes. I try not to be. I try to ignore most of my classmates actions or inactions, but sometimes it gets to be too much. I want to sneer and insult someone. I don't. Not because I'm scared of anyone, I can take care of myself, but because what would be the point. In two years I'll be off at a great university and I'll probably never see any of these people again. But that reminds me that I'll never see _Her_ again either. That transforms my slight bitterness into something else.

I'm smart. I'm very smart. Not only do I make good marks in school, but I make good decisions. It sounds self-righteous and it is, but I'm smart enough to know what I am. If you catch me on a bad day, I can be a hypocrite too but I might apologize later. But being as smart and comfortable as I am doesn't automatically make me happy. It doesn't magically give me everything I want. I'll probably never get what I want. Not what I really want.

She's beautiful. Not the obvious physical-perfection beautiful or the completely selfless good-hearted beautiful, but something that mixes those two together. She's confident and has her own quirky way of doing things. Her own sense of style that no department store window could find a mannequin to duplicate. She's smart, not a genius, but smart and next to bigger personalities her brains are overshadowed. She's status-conscious but has an odd sense of loyalty. I've seen her stand by her best friend, saving Spacey from herself. She doesn't know I've seen her, but I have.

She's so damn beautiful and it feels like I'm the only one that can see it, like I'm the only one that cares. It makes me bitter.

_He_ makes me bitter.

I see the way she looks at him and it makes me nauseous. She has never looked at me that way. She never will.

I could change for her. I could where his clothes and speak the way he does. I could look at my grades and laugh. I could go through life without a care in the world. I could play hockey. I could look around London, Ontario and think that this was where the world started and ended. I could treat people like they were marionettes and pull their strings for my own amusement.

But I won't. That's not who I am and I can't be someone I'm not.

My life wasn't meant for those things so maybe it wasn't meant for her. That fact doesn't make the stab of pain in my stomach go away when I see her watch him. It doesn't stop me from laying in my bed and going over every word of every conversation I had with her no matter how insignificant. It doesn't erase the feeling of elation every time she gives me a smile or says my name while passing me by with her best-friend by her side.

I can't help but laugh when I think about Casey. It's not a happy laugh or a bitter one, but something caught between those two.

Stepsisters shouldn't be complicated little things. I have a great one. She's two years older than me. Her name is Alexandra. She lives with her mom on the other side of the country. I only see her around the holidays. She's a total prep but we get along, okay.

Surprisingly, Lexie was the first and last person I've ever made a really bad decision with. It was New Year's Eve and she persuaded me to tagalong with her and a few of her older friends to a party. Fortunately, I can't recall much that happened. The next morning, she gave me an aspirin and when I got home my face burned as I opened her email. It was filled with pictures of me making out with some random girl. She still brings it up every time I see her. Her little inside joke. It was the first and last time I ever got drunk.

There's a reason for my anecdote and isn't 'don't drink with girls you barely know.' It's that even though she's beautiful, sweet and funny and in someways reminds me of _Her_, I've never once looked at Lexie the way that _Mister Cool_ looked at his stepsister over the dinner table. It was disturbing.

For a second I had wanted to laugh at him and point my finger and say to the world that for once I'm not the freak. No, it's everyone's favorite prom king that has fallen off his thrown. But then that empathetic part of me, the one that wrestles my need to become a lawyer with my want to become a doctor, had hit me and I instantly pitied him.

I pity myself. I pity her too.

She's still holding out for her white knight with a hockey stick. The one who will forget what her laugh sounds like as he moves seamlessly onto the next girl or obsesses over the things he can't have.

See, while the captain of the hockey team may be the reason I'll never have what I want, her best-friend is the reason she'll never have what she wants either. None of us will really.

Despite all of my suspicions I took the advice given to me. With confidence I had asked her out for coffee. She turned me down. Too many differences.

I smile on the inside as I watch Her and her best friend walk down the hall. She gives me a nod. I nod back. Her dark eyes light up and she beams at hockey-boy and he smirks back at his stepsister. I ruefully watch the cycle continue.

Well, I suppose we have much more in common than she thinks.

The End


End file.
